Serenity

Serenity ½

This year’s The Book Of Henry is like someone threw a copy of Moby Dick, an old CD-ROM of Sims, random pages of several Black Mirror scripts, and a bargain-bin DVD set of shitty noir films into a blender with the lid off and turned it on to HIGH. Then it got poured it into an empty Pringles can and left on a Walmart shelf for 6 months. And the sad part is, if it leaned more into it’s insane premise, it would be more entertaining and earn my undying affection. But what we got here, this kinda-fun debacle, won’t soon be forgotten to those who seek it out.

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